


Orbital Decay

by rosecake



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Backstory, Canon-Typical Death/Pregnancy/Twin Issues, DOOMS, Family, Gen, Loss, Nightmares, Reunion, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22608811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/pseuds/rosecake
Summary: There's a pattern to their lives: they started out together, and no matter what happens, they will eventually be together again.
Relationships: Lockne & Mama (Death Stranding)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Orbital Decay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wolfs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfs/gifts).



**01 // The Nice Model**

Growing up, their mother sometimes told them stories about her pregnancy, about how they were so tightly entwined in the womb that her doctors thought they were conjoined right up until the birth.

“I was so scared,” she said, holding them tightly at the memory. “I heard so many horror stories about separation surgeries going wrong, if the babies even survived long enough for that. But then when you were born everything was fine. After all of that worry I ended up with two separate girls, both of you healthy and whole. The doctors said it was a miracle.”

Later, they would eventually realize that their mother had only been half right. Their bodies might be separate, but their souls were still conjoined - a part of each of them would always exist in the other.

—

“Målingen,” said Mama, and then she hesitated, leaning down so that she could get a better look at Lockne’s eyes. Then she sighed and patted Lockne on her head. “Sorry, Lockne sweetheart. Where’s your sister? It’s time for dinner.”

“She’s taking nap,” said Lockne. At that moment Målingen was in their room, curled up on her twin bed, tossing and turning fitfully in her sleep. “We didn’t sleep well last night.”

Målingen wasn’t sleeping well at that moment either. And now that Lockne was thinking about it, the dark, ugly idea in the that had been slithering around in the back of her head started to crawl into conscious thought. She could see the massive red moon from her dreams, taking up practically half the sky, its violent light lighting up all the wet, dead things beached below it. She could smell it, too, all the acid and all the salt in the poisonous water, over even the rot of the bodies, unending and infinite in either direction—

Her mother shook her, hard. “Lockne?” she said, almost shouting, her eyes wide with fear. “Lockne, can you hear me?”

Lockne nodded, and for a second she thought she might slip back into Målingen’s dream, but Mama’s hand was like a vice around her arm, holding her in place.

“She’s having a nightmare,” said Målingen.

Mama looked at her for a second, wild-eyed, and then she took in a deep breath. And then a second, and then a third, and then in a tight voice, she said, “Okay. Let’s go wake her up, then.”

—

“It’s definitely DOOMS,” said the psychiatrist. She had a calm, even voice, but the way she was rapidly clicking her pen was beginning to drive Målingen insane. She wanted to slap it out of the woman’s hand. But that would get her in trouble, and even though her parents had told her and Lockne they hadn’t done anything wrong on the way over, it still felt like she was in trouble. “It’s difficult to properly quantify when they’re this young, but it’s clearly strong. I’d say level four or five. But we won’t know for sure until they’re teenagers. ”

Her parents were silent for a long time, and Målingen was too shy to break the silence herself. Lockne was holding her hand, and Målingen could feel her anxiety, a reflection of her own.

“I know there’s no cure,” said Papa, and he was definitely upset, no matter how many times he’d said he wasn’t, “but is there— well, is there anything we can do to make it easier for them? To help with the nightmares?”

Målingen’s intense relief the psychiatrist finally put the pen down, dropping it on the table as she reached for some papers. “We’re in uncharted territory here,” she said, and without the erratic clicking in the background her voice really was soothing. “There’s no real treatment plan for DOOMS specifically, at least not yet. But a lot of the good old therapies for generalized anxiety and disordered thinking seem to help. Sometimes just a diagnosis helps, having a name to put to the feelings. It’s good for people to know they aren’t alone with it,” she said, and smiled at Målingen and Lockne.

Målingen looked up at Mama to find her looking down at her, looking lost in thought. Her bright blue eyes were unfocused. Målingen got her blue eyes from Mama, and Lockne got her hazel eyes from Papa. Their eyes were the only real difference between them.

“Sometimes, they say—“ said Mama, and then she stopped. “I know this sounds insane, but it seems like they can sense other. Almost like some kind of telepathy.“

The psychiatrist stared at Lockne, and then at Målingen, and then she shrugged.

“Who knows? I’ve never seen any other twins with DOOMS, and I couldn’t find any record of it having happened before in any journal. Fifteen years ago I would have laughed at you, but now? It’s a brave new world out there and nobody really understands how it works yet.”

—-

Sometimes the Psychiatrist’s advice helped, and sometimes it didn’t.

“It’s all,” said Lockne, stuttering, not able to get the words out. Målingen was crying into Papa’s shirt and ignoring his attempts to calm her. “It’s all over, it’s all over, it’s collapsing—“

“It’s okay,” said Mama, pulling her closer. “I know the dreams are bad, Lockne, and I know they feel real, but they’re not.”

Målingen sniffled. “We can see the beach,” she said, her voice muffled from being pressed into Papa’s chest. “The beaches are real, aren’t they?”

“Yes, the beaches are real,” said Mama. She couldn’t feel hers like they could, neither could Papa, but everyone knew the beaches were real. “Everything will die, eventually, but not all at once. Not before we’ve all had a chance to live.”

Even awake, even with her eyes open, she could still see the blood moon rising in the red sky. Too much space, too much water, and if she gets pulled out into the acid waves she’ll never find her way back to anything again, not even Lockne.

Mama brushed tears from her face. “I remember when the voidouts started,” she said. “I thought the world was ending. Almost everyone did. But that was years ago, sweethearts, and the world is still here. It’s a lot different than it used to be, sure, but humanity’s still here. We survived, and we had you girls, and one day I’m sure you’ll have children of your own.”

“But the beach,” said Lockne. “The dead-“

“It’s just a dream,” said Mama. “Even if the beach is, I don’t even know, trying to show you something, that doesn’t mean it will happen. Nobody knows what the future holds. Nobody and nothing. Just because it feels real doesn’t mean it’s going to happen.”

If she were older, Lockne would ask: If nobody can tell the future, why are you always so sure it will be better? But she was young, young enough to find comfort in her mother’s confidence.

**02 // Orbital Resonance**

Mama told them, “Communication is critical. You have to get the software and the hardware to talk to each other.”

She and Papa both used to work for NASA, back before voidouts took out the all the old American cities. Mama said that when they were little, they had both wanted to be astronauts, but life had a way of changing plans, and they’d both ended up working on satellite systems instead. That was how they’d met.

“Nobody can survive in a world this harsh alone,” said Papa. “People have to be able to talk to each other.”

When they were younger, Målingen thought her parents must understand everything. They taught her and Lockne so much: math, and physics, and history, and how to build their own rockets and how to program their own machines. They taught them as they worked on their satellites and launch plans, even though the old technology barely worked. Even if they could get the satellites to launch properly through the ever-present cover of chirilium contaminated clouds, the signals came through crackling and distorted. And that was on clear days - they couldn’t get any signal at all through timefall.

As they got older, though, both she and Lockne started to realize that their parents had their limitations. The satellites weren’t ever going to work right no matter how hard their parents worked to improve them. What had worked in the old world wasn’t going to work in the new one.

It was easier for her, and her sister. They were closer to the beach, and closer to each other. They could feel the changes in the world in a way their parents couldn’t. See things their parents couldn’t see.

Chirilium, as it turned out, was both the problem and the solution.

Not long after they figured that out the President herself came to meet them. Her parents told them that once upon a time that would have been almost unimaginable. But back the President was responsible for nearly three hundred and seventy five million people; now she only had to manage around a hundred thousand. That made it much easier for her to take a personal interest.

“Målingen, Lockne,” she said, leaning down slightly as she spoke to them. She was tall, and at thirteen Målingen and Lockne weren’t quite fully grown. “I read your report on the possible uses of chirilium in manufacturing. Very impressive for such young girls.”

“Thank you,” said Målingen. She had to elbow her sister, but Lockne eventually mumbled her thanks as well.

President Strand smiled, but when she spoke again it was more to their parents than to them. “We have a program in Central Knot for promising young students,” she said. “Engineers, biologists, beach scientists. All the people we’ll need to rebuild the country. And a number of them have DOOMS. My son has it as well, I understand how difficult it can be to watch your child struggle with it. But being in a supporting and understanding environment really does help.”

“Yes, we’ve heard about the program,” said Papa, his hand tight on Målingen’s shoulder. Her parents had anticipated the offer once President Strand reached out to ask for a meeting. “Are you sure it’s really safe? The major cities these days— well, a lot can go wrong.”

President Strand smiled. If she was offended by their lack of faith in the UCA’s capital she didn’t show it. “It’s the safest place in the world today,” she said. “The children are our future, the same as they always were. We wouldn’t move them there if we weren’t absolutely certain it’s secure.”

Their parents asked for time to consider the offer, and the President acquiesced. They didn’t like the idea of their children leaving, they were clear about that, but Målingen could tell that they were just as worried about holding them back.

President Strand had to meet with them several more times, but eventually Målingen and Lockne leave home.

—-

Until she left her parents behind in the Link Knot settlement, Lockne’s understanding of the importance of their work was purely theoretical. She understood that connection and communication were important because her parents had told her they were important, but she hadn’t really felt it. How could she, when she shared a small apartment with everyone she’d ever cared about? She’d almost never been more than a hundred feet from her parents, but now that over a hundred miles separated them her abstract belief in the importance of a new comm network had crystalized into a pressing need.

Lockne and Målingen were in perfect agreement as to the solution: the chiral network. A new postal service, a new internet, a new way of connecting that hadn’t been possible before the beaches. And it would be better than anything the world had seen before.

At first she could tell some of the professors and other students were skeptical. Understandable, when neither she nor Målingen could fully explain their ideas to anyone but each other. Still, after years of study, she and her sister had both become very skilled at describing the way the world worked in numbers and figures. Eventually they found the right way to describe the idea, to convince the people around them it was possible. And if doubt lingered, it didn’t matter as much as it might have, not when they enjoyed the full support of the President.

So, slowly but surely, they began to translate their idea into concrete plans.

And every time Mama called and the connection dropped before she could get a word out, every time Papa called and she couldn’t even recognize his voice through the static, her drive got stronger. The comms were so bad her parents had resorted to sending them letters, hand-delivered across the bleak terrain by porters. The letters their parents sent them were numbered and dated at the top, as were the letters Lockne and Målingen sent back, and that was how they knew that fewer than half of them got through. Even the ones that made it through were sometimes too damaged by timefall to read.

Lockne was certain she would have given up already if not for Målingen. She missed her parents; she missed seeing them, missed hearing them speak to her in clear, loving voices.

In truth, she cared more about her family than she did about her new network, and she would have left the project behind if she hadn’t had her sister with her to calm her.

“The sooner we’re done the sooner we can retire,” said Målingen. They were up too late, again, even though several people had already tried to convince them to give up their bad sleeping habits. “Go back to sleeping in our old beds. I wonder if we’d even fit in them now?”

“I don’t think they let you retire before you’re old enough to vote.”

Målingen laughed. “I don’t think it matters anymore. It’s not like President Strand is going to let anyone hold new elections.”

Lockne laughed too, and for a few seconds she forgot how tired she was. Having Målingen was like having a second mind, a back-up to make sure hers never got to too overwhelmed.

That night they decided to split the work in two. Målingen worked on the hardware, on building circuits that could hold up under heavy contamination and structures that would hold up under asymmetrical wear and tear, and Lockne worked on the software, carefully writing equations and mapping out the logic.

They worked on it day and night, and they got so close to finishing it before their parents died.

—-

It was difficult enough knowing that their parents were dead. It was worse, somehow, knowing that it was from terrorism. So much chaos in the world, so much death, and someone had with deliberately chosen to make it worse.

Asleep, Målingen sat on the beach from their nightmares, her sister right beside her on the rocks that lined the shore.

“The universe collapsed in on itself to try and kill off humanity and it didn’t work,” said Lockne. “So now people are trying to help it along? That doesn’t make sense.”

The hollow emptiness in her heart was mirrored in Lockne’s. Målingen couldn’t find the strength to speak around it.

“It’s so fucking stupid,” said Lockne. She surged to her feet suddenly, a rock in her hand, and she threw it at some unrecognizable dead thing that had beached itself in front of them.

“I know,” said Målingen.

“I’m so sick of this beach.” Lockne stared out at the corpses lined out in front of them, some shifting listlessly in the waves. “I never want to see it again.”

They’d had the same nightmares, all about the same beach, for as long as Målingen could remember. “I know,” she said. “Neither do I.”

—-

President Strand looked hollowed out, exhausted, and Lockne wasn’t surprised to see her like that. The loss of her parents hurt, but she knew they weren’t the only ones who had died. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, and she had more bad news, Lockne could see it in her expression. “However, while I’m sure this is a bad time, it raises a major concern.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lockne.

“It’s too dangerous to have the two of you together in the same lab,” said Strand. “Right now an attack on this city could take you both out, and without either of you the network is a lost cause. We need to move you to separate labs.” “No,” said Målingen.

At the exact same moment Lockne said, “Fuck you.”

President Strand raised her hands in a placating gesture as Lockne began to go off on her in earnest. “I know you’d rather be together, especially now,” she said. “But we all have an obligation to the country to be prepared for the worst.”

As far as Lockne was concerned it was completely unthinkable. It was enough dealing with the loss of her parents, but having to go without Målingen? She didn’t think they’d been separated for more than a few hours since the day they were born.

“No,” said Lockne as Målingen nodded along with her. “Never.”

In the end, though, President Strand always got what she wanted.

—-

The President decided that Målingen would stay in Central Knot while Lockne moved north, to the newly established Capital Knot. She didn’t listen when Målingen complained, or when Lockne threatened to stop work. She knew they’d keep working, if only to be able to talk to each other again.

On the day of the move Målingen stood under a canopy and watched the caravan of trucks carrying her sister away disappear over the horizon, and she kept watching, tears running down her face. She was expecting some kind of snap, some kind of new, deep loneliness to swallow her up as her sister got further and further away.

“You have DOOMS, don’t you?” asked a porter, and Målingen started. She hadn’t even heard him approach. “My niece has that too. Can’t even step outside without tears pouring down her face.”

“Yes,” said Målingen, wiping her face. “The chiral contamination just gets worse and worse, doesn’t it? No wonder people hardly ever step outside anymore.”

She walked around aimlessly for a few hours, and then went back to her room. She lied down, and found that she couldn’t sleep. It was too strange, being in a bedroom alone for the first time. She wasn’t sure how she was going to manage to sleep with all that emptiness.

Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and tried to let herself simply feel.

And, to her great relief, she can feel her sister doing the same.

“It’s okay,” said Målingen, her hands clasped in her lap. It wasn’t the same as holding her sister’s hand, but it was close enough. “We don’t ever have to be alone. Not really.”

**03 // Asymmetric Radiation**

Even with the weight of adjusting to physical separation it didn’t take them long to finish the network. Testing went smoothly, and they have prototypes for the President by the end of the year.

After that it was a whirlwind of planning for the expedition West. It took convincing, but President Strand eventually agreed that they both should go, in case the network needed updating or adjustments as it began to cover more ground. There were a thousand thoughts running through Lockne’s head, but mostly she was just happy to see her sister again.

“Have you gotten tested for glasses?” asked Målingen, pushing her own glasses back up her nose.

“I have,” said Lockne. “The ophthalmologist said I didn’t need them.”

Målingen looked at her, eyes narrowed with doubt. “Are you sure? Are you lying?”

“Am I lying? You would know I was lying! Besides, why would I lie about needing glasses?”

“How should I know?” asked Målingen, practically sulking, and then she sighed. “Well, I guess our eyes never were perfectly identical anyway.”

“Well, we were never exactly the same,” said Lockne. “At least now people should be able to tell us apart.

—-

In fact, though, most people still couldn’t tell them apart even when only one of them wore glasses. Most of their fellow bridge members treated them as completely interchangeable while the expedition slowly made its way to the western coast.

Målingen and Lockne barely slept, barely stopped to eat, but it was worth it to see the chiral network finally coming to life. They could talk to the people they’d left behind as clearly as if they were in the next room. And, even better, the expedition can fabricate nearly everything it needed.

It was so beautiful and gratifying that Målingen didn’t mind the lack of sleep, even though, in all honesty, that was at least partly because her nightmares were getting worse. More real, more present, even sometimes slipping through the divide between sleep and wakefulness.

Unintended consequences, maybe. “It’s always been like this,” said Lockne. “Better or worse, with no real reasoning behind it.”

“I know,” said Målingen. It felt worse, though. Some sense of dread crawled up in her, and having settled in her hear it wouldn’t let her go. She almost says something, but Lockne set down the Q-PId she’d been working on.

“Are you alright?” she asked, and Målingen nodded even though she wasn’t.

She wasn’t a child anymore. It was enough that she still had family with her at all, she shouldn’t need Lockne to be with her every second of every day just to quell the irrational fears. She’d lived with them her whole life, after all.

It was just different now. She still only had Lockne, but Lockne? Well, Lockne had made other connections. She had other people she could rely on, and other people she needed to support.

Målingen wasn’t jealous, exactly. She could feel her sister’s happiness, and her sister’s happiness was her own, in a very literal sense. It was just a strange feeling, knowing that her sister had found a person that she loved. Målingen had friends, she had colleagues the looked up to and respected, but she’d never really loved anyone outside of her family.

Just one more difference between the two of them.

—-

Lockne’s marriage felt like a dream. And, just like a pleasant dream, it was brutally short.

He died trying to get them back to UCA territory. A lot of people died trying to get what was left of Bridges back to the eastern coast, but Lockne was in pain, and she felt like she was entitled to be selfish, given the circumstances. A lot of people die but it was her husband that mattered, her husband that she mourned. She didn’t have room in her for anyone else.

After he died, Målingen managed to drag her back as far as Mountain Knot City, and after a while they decided that was where they were going to stay. They get new messages every day about new terrorist attacks. The UCA population, having finally stabilized over the past few years, starts dropping rapidly again as several cities go up over night. The world was falling apart around Lockne in more ways than one. But there wasn’t anything Lockne could do about any of it, and she wasn’t sure she could summon up the energy to do anything even fi she’d wanted to.

Målingen took care of her day and night. Like a mother looking after her child. “Just tell me what you need, Lockne,” she said. “Just tell me what you want.”

The world was falling apart around her, and still what she wanted was the same thing she’d wanted a month ago, back when the future was still sunny and bright. “We were going to have a baby,” said Lockne. “We were going to build a better world for it to live in.”

Målingen was silent for a long time. “It’s not too late for that,” she said, although she sounded unsure of herself.

“For a baby? Or for a better world?”

“Either,” said Målingen. “You can have either, Lockne. You can have whatever you want.”

—-

After months of doctors and lab tests they discovered that Lockne still had usable eggs and Målingen could carry a baby to term. Målingen made a note of it as one more of those little differences that didn’t really matter much in the end.

**04 // Impact Event**

One perfectly normal evening Lockne suddenly found herself alone for the very first time in her life.

—-

Målingen died almost immediately, bone and important organs alike crushed by falling rubble, she just didn’t realize it at first. Looking back, she couldn’t be sure exactly how long it took for the truth to hit her. It could have been a few seconds or a few days. DOOMS and timefall and death all at the same time made it difficult to maintain a firm grasp on the passage of time.

But on some subconscious level she must have understood the moment it happened. Her first instinct had been to reach for Lockne. Her first instinct was always to reach for her sister. If she had done it, though, who knows what could have happened? She could have dragged Lockne right behind her to their beach, down into the cold waves. Back to the same ocean depths they came from. 

She didn't want her sister to die with her. So she reached out for her baby instead.

—-

Lockne was certain that if her sister had died that she would know it. She would have been able to feel it. That belief had been constant her whole life, as far back as she could remember. And she didn’t feel death, or pain, or suffering.

She felt absolutely nothing.

—-

They finally came to dig her out of the rubble. Much too late, but they had no way of knowing that. And, fortunately for her, none of them seemed to have DOOMS. None of them could see her baby, and so none of them asked any questions.

“Your cuff link must have broken,” a young man told her, holding out a replacement. “We thought you’d died.”

She smiled, hoping her expression didn’t look as manic as she felt. “Thank you,” she said, and when he kept looking at her, she snapped one cuff around her wrist, and then made a motion as if cuffing the second one into place as well. He seemed to accept that, and left her in peace.

It took a lot of talking, a lot of hastily construed lies, and even some outright begging before her rescuers agreed to leave her alone in the destroyed hospital. She could hear her baby crying, and she wanted to soothe it.

“I’ve got the direct chiral link,” she said. It wasn’t as useful as the network connection, but it would at least let her communicate with her colleagues without having to leave. “I’ll be fine.”

When they finally left the relief was so strong it nearly drove her to tears. “It’s okay, baby,” she said, her hands sliding through the shadowy umbilical cord as she reached for it. “You’re okay. Mama’s got you.”

—-

Normal people were alone their entire lives. Lockne understood that now, even if she couldn’t make herself accept her own isolation yet. Normal people had grown up like this and they were used to it.

Lockne was not used to it, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to get used to it.

She tried calling and Målingen didn’t answer. She tried sending porters, and they all came back wearing sheepish expressions, telling her that Målingen had refused to speak to them. She called Strand and Die-Hardman and every godforsaken person she could think of who might be able to talk some sense into Målingen, and eventually they just stop picking up.

The only thing she didn’t try was going herself. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if Målingen rejected her in person.

Aaron cleared his throat, and she realized she’d been ignoring him. “Sorry,” she said. “What did you say?”

“We’ve been getting a lot mail from Capitol Knot,” he said. “They’re taking about setting up the chiral network again.”

It would be useful, she had to admit that. Fabrication would be easier. Comms would be more reliable.

But there was no way in hell. 

“We can’t let ourselves rely on the UCA,” she said, trying to swallow down some of the bitterness in her voice. “They can’t promise they’ll be able to keep it up and running. If we’re going to survive we’ve got to learn how to be self-sufficient.”

She popped open her cuff link and tossed it in the recycling bin. “We’re a free city now. We’ll make our own future.”

—

Lockne built up a lot of walls. And when Sam brought her back her sister they all fell down in an instant.

**05 // Post-Extinction**

Sam came back around eventually. Quicker than he’d intended, probably, and he seemed slightly sheepish about it. It must have been difficult trying to keep a baby alive out in the wastelands of America. Lockne didn’t have a clue how he’d found formula.

“Can I hold her?” she asked, reaching out for Louise. He only hesitated for a second before handing her over, and Lockne decided that wasn’t long enough for her to take offense. “Oh, look at her. She looks so happy.”

“She’s still really small,” said Sam. “I, uh, was getting a little worried about it.”

“Deadman and I have taken a few more BBs out of their tanks since you left,” she said. Holding a flesh and blood baby was so different from holding a BT, and she hadn’t gotten used to the difference yet. “They’re all small, which makes sense, given that they’re premature. But they all seem healthy. And they are getting bigger, even if they’re all still on the small side.” She bounced Lou in her arms, and she was pleased when the baby giggled. “I’m sure Papa will love you even if you turn out short.”

“Maybe,” said Sam. “Deadman already told me you’d started letting out the BBs.”

“Oh, that’s not surprising,” she said. “We need to start finding good homes for them, but he’s so reluctant to give any of them up. I’m worried he’s going to seriously try and raise several dozen children on his own.”

Sam took Lou back from her, and she was very proud of how easily she gave the baby up. “What about you?” he asked. “Were you going to take one in?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she said. “I don’t know if I could, after everything.

Sam nodded. “It’s scary,” he said. “But the world’d changed. It’s better now that It was before.”

“Oh, I know,” said Lockne. “I haven’t had a nightmare in weeks.”

—

The red beach, the DOOMS vision, was gone. The only beach she ever saw now was her own. Or maybe it would be better to say hers and Målingen’s, but it was so hard now to think of themselves as separate people.

She laid on her back and looked up and the clear night sky, scattered with too many stars to count. She could make out some of the constellations her parents had shown her in books.

“The world changed on us again, didn’t it?” said Målingen.

“Yes,” said Lockne. “But I’m sure we can figure this one out too.”


End file.
